When my kids were little and before they had a good sense of viscosity and centers of gravity, of course everything spilled. I remember a few epics. Early one morning, my step-daughter dropped a full jug of purple grape juice. Now let's pause here and watch in slow motion as I reach to lift the jug of juice off the grocery store shelf. Did I have a coupon? Was I boosting their antioxidants? Was I nuts?
Anyway, poor wee one, it slipped from her grip and she stood open-mouthed and paralyzed as the purple tide rolled in, splashing on the shore of the refrigerator door - up and under, and then back.
But no matter what went down, I tried to be good natured about it, noting that at least after the spill was cleaned up there would be one clean spot. My daughter remembered that the other day, and that made me happy.
This was on my mind yesterday. The day before I'd dropped an egg. Not just any egg, naturally, but a huge locally grown, brown-shelled, happy life egg. What a gooey mess. The next day I knocked over a cup of coffee in the same place. And my first thought was, oh how sad - two spills but only one clean spot.